Third Times the Charm
by Xelan
Summary: How well do we really know our parents? How many children have ever wondered whether their mother is actually their mother? What if one had a reason to ask and decided to do so? What if he was Harry Potter's son?


Third Times the Charm (or We Three Rings)

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

A/N: I originally had a wonderful idea for this story, but I waited too long to commit it to paper (so to speak) and I forgot the original idea. With what I had, I trudged on and came up with this. It isn't what it should be, but it isn't horrendous.

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A little boy, just turned 12 years old, tugged on his mother's apron. "Mum?"

Said mother turned around briefly, ruffled his hair and then went back to chopping vegetables. "Yes, dear?" she asked off handedly.

Biting his lip, a nervous habit he'd evidently inherited from one of his parents, he asked in an uncertain voice, "Are you really my mum?"

His _Mum_ stopped chopping with a sense of dramatic finality. She turned back around and gave him an assessing look; finally, with an expression that was particularly amused, she answered, "Of course I'm your mum. Believe me, after carrying you to term, no one else gets to claim credit."

"Oh," he squeaked softly.

Hermione knelt down and wrapped an arm around her son. _He's still shorter than me. If he favors my side of the family then he'll probably tower over me like his grandad, but if he favors Harry's side then he might not be too much taller than me. _"So, what's brought this on? Was Ginevra Malfoy's little girl spreading rumors again?"

The young, soon to be second year, pouted. "She has a name, mum. She's Discordia Molly Malfoy."

She suppressed a snort of amusement. "Ah, defending her honor already. Sweet on her perhaps?"

"Eww. No! We're rivals and besides we're related though the Black side." Christopher Daniel Potter blushed despite his best efforts, but his mum noticed. "If I _were_ interested in a girl, and I'm not saying I am, then I'd probably be interested in Chastity Bones."

"Chastity? My how time flies. I haven't seen her since… well I suppose I can't recall when I last saw her.

"Mum! She was standing right next to me at 9 ¾ when you and Dad picked me up." He pouted that his parents couldn't even remember the girl he—err—might conceivably fancy.

Hermione smiled knowingly. "I don't suppose you might have been involved in a rescue of young Miss Bones.

Christopher's eyes got very wide and his ears began to flame red, a sure sign he was contemplating fibbing to his all-knowing mother, the one, ultimate, knower of truth. "Noooo."

Hermione knelt down, put a hand on her son's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "All right, son, spill."

*Sigh*

"All right. Yes, Mum. I did save her – once!"

"Uh huh. What was it this time? Acromantula? Blast-ended skrewt?"

"A big three headed dog."

"Fluffy? You saved the girl you fancied from a Hagrid's pet Cerberus?"

"That giant, slobbering, three headed monster is named _Fluffy_?"

"Oh yes. Though he's rather like a big puppy with the right kind of music. And before you start, let me just say that you shouldn't bother trying to get Hagrid to change the name. Your father's been trying to get him to budge on that for years."

"There you go again, Mum. You called Dad 'your father'.

Hermione cocked an eye. "And how would you like me to refer to your father?"

Chris hopped up and down rapidly and then exclaimed, "There! You did it again!"

Hermione just shook her head and smiled. Chris was so much like his father. "Fine. Henceforth, I shall refer to your father as 'The Man Who Shagged Me Rotten So You Could Be Born And With Whom I Copulate Every Single Night'. Happy?"

"La la la la," he said as he covered his ears. "I'm not listening!"

Looking down at her son and inwardly smirking, Hermione managed to say, with a straight face, "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I'm still waiting to hear why exactly you were unsure whether I was your mother."

"No reason."

"Christopher."

"No, I mean it. I can't quite recall."

"Christopher Potter."

"Really, Mum, there's no need for the third degree here. It's really nothing..."

"If I have to actually say your middle name, then you know things will end badly for you, don't you?" She wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

By this point, Chris' little cheek was twitching as if it were spasming. His terror level was rapidly rising to critical levels and he was breathing hard. No one was as scary as his mum when she wanted to be. People go on and on about Dementors, but his Mum, he was sure, could completely cow one if she tried hard enough.

"Christopher Dan-"

"All right! All right, I'll talk!"

"Good. I didn't know why you didn't just speak up from the beginning. Particularly since you know you can't keep a secret from me. It's a mum thing. Now, spill."

"Well, I was helping Dad sort through some old things in the attic. This really ancient trunk was there and I started going through it."

"Ancient?" Hermione asked, feeling her left eyelid twitch ever so slightly.

"Yeah! It looked like it was probably at least twice as old as me!"

Hermione's lips tightened but she kept smiling. "Moving along, what exactly did you find in this old trunk?"

"Not 'old', Mum. It was it was older than old. It was ancie-well, most everything in the trunk was old and dusty." He continued without missing a beat. He'd noticed his mum's eyes narrowing and his Potter survival instincts kicked in.

"Go on." His mother prompted

"Everything was old and dusty except for two small velvet boxes – one red box and one gold. I really wanted to see what was inside of them, but you and Dad always say not to touch possible magical artifacts if something seems off and those boxes seemed to fit the bill pretty well."

"That's my boy! And I mean it, by the way. Even if you find a girl, get married, and have your own children, you'll always be my little boy."

"Mum!"

"Yes, yes." She waved her hand. "Continue with your story."

"Well, there were these two boxes and I was kinda just staring at them because they were in perfect condition. Suddenly, Dad reaches over my shoulder and picks both of them up before I even had a chance to close my hand around them."

"Christopher Potter... I thought you said—"

"ANYWAY... Dad had the boxes in his hand and he seemed to get really quiet for a moment. You know Dad, he's a bit larger than life sometimes. Even when he's not saying anything or doing anything, he just has a presence that fills the room."

"Yes, that's one of the ways I always know when your Father is around, even if I can't see him."

"Dad was quiet and all of the sudden he looked really sad. He sat down on the floor next to me wrapped an arm around my shoulders."

Hermione had an odd expression on her face.

-Flashback-

"Dad, is something wrong?"

Harry sniffed, completely unashamed that his eyes were tearing up. "I'm fine, Chris."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm not cry—oh, all right. Yes, I'm a bit misty eyed because of these two boxes."

Chris, like many young people had a very short attention span. "Ooh! I was wondering what was in those two boxes. What's in them, Dad?"

Harry held up both boxes. These, Chris, are ring boxes. When I was still a very young man, I bought an engagement ring for the person I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with." He sighed.

"What happened, Dad?"

"She turned me down, of course. It wouldn't have worked out. I was only thirteen at the time."

"You mean you fancied someone other than Mum!?"

Harry laughed at the question and then looked at Christopher with soft eyes. "You look so like your mother when you get excited like that."

Daniel's eyes flew wide, but Harry had already turned his gaze to the other box, the gold one. He completely missed the look of shock on his son's face. What did his Father mean by that? _Was he trying to tell me something? _Chris wondered.

"Now this box," he said as he held up the red box for Christopher to easily see, "this box was from the second time I tried to propose to a woman."

"You proposed again!?" Christopher squeaked. He couldn't believe his ears. His parents, the perfect couple (even if he thought they were too touchy feely sometimes), the ones everyone in the world seemed to think was the perfect couple, might never have happened if these mysterious women hadn't turned down his dad. He might not even be here if they'd accepted his dad's proposal."

"Yeah. Sounds a bit silly doesn't it? It took me 2 years to get over the heartbreak. I think it might have been fate. Your mother and I, we were so close; always together, she and I. Is it any wonder that I was able to work past my shattered heart and pluck up the courage to ask her to marry me?"

Christopher bit his lip, both out of habit for when he was in troubled and also to keep the strangled sob out of his voice. His Mum wasn't his mum... apparently. If he understood what his dad was saying, then his mother was actually the second person to turn down his dad's proposal. He fought down the first tinges of hyperventilation."

"Are you all right Chris? You look like you're mentally chewing on something."

Chris swallowed and tried to school his feature back into semblance of order. "Fine, just fine." He coughed. "Although, I think I may have swallowed a bug."

"Maybe you should have Mum look at you."

"Great idea, Dad. HeyDadCanIBorrowTheseThankYo u!" The ring boxes were in Chris' hands before Harry could blink, and Chris had disappeared down the attic steps.

-End Flashback-

"And that's how it happened."

"Oh, Sweetie, you misunderstood your father."

"But-but-but—"

"No buts. I really am your mother."

"Umm... How can you be? Dad proposed to two other women and he said I look like the second one because she's my mum!"

"Calm down Christopher Daniel Potter. You're ignoring one thing that would make everything your father said make sense."

"I am not! What could I possibly be ignoring?"

"You never asked your father to whom he proposed?"

"Does it matter? I mean, you're the only one to say 'yes'."

"Oh, I think it matters a great deal." A smile toyed at her lips.

"Why do you say that?" Chris asked with some suspicion.

"Because, while I am the only one who said 'yes', I'm also the one who said 'no' twice."

"See! That didn—wait... what!?"

"Yes, your father proposed to me when he was 13 and I was 14; he proposed again when he was fifteen and I was 16; and his last and most successful proposal happened 5 years later when he was 20 and I was twenty-one. He told me it took him that long to work up the courage again after I broke his heart – twice." She paused and her gaze turned slightly distant for a moment before continuing. "Though, in retrospect, I actually think it was because he wanted to make me wait a bit since I'd turned him down twice already by that point. You know, I always intended to and was even ready to marry him if he had asked when I was 17 going on 18. We never really talked about it, but I suspect, he may just have been trying to make sure everything was perfect before he tried again."

Chris' eyes were wide once more.

She looked over her shoulder. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry dropped the disillusionment spell. "Actually it was a bit of a combination. Plus, I had a deuce of a time figuring out what ring design to use the last time."

Chris finally found his voice. "Why did you use a different ring each time if it was the same girl each proposal?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "That's simple. She kept the ring each time."

Christopher was incredulous. "Wait, she turned you down, but she kept the ring?" He faced his mother. "Bit tasteless, innit?"

"You mean 'Isn't it?" And no, it isn't. Harry engraved our names on the ring and, despite turning him down, I firmly intended to marry him once we were both out of school. He just didn't have enough patience when he was younger. Can you imagine your Granddad spotting a ring on my finger before I was old enough to leave home... or for that matter, to enchant a ring to stay hidden?" She wiggled her fingers and two rings appeared on two other fingers on her hand. "They get a bit cumbersome sometimes, wearing all 3, but thanks to the impervious charm, they're incredibly handy to have around. They really leave a satisfying and noticeable mark whenever I smash someone in the face."

Harry wrapped his arms around his wife's waist. "Yes, Dear." He began to nibble on her neck.

"Daaad! That's gross!"

"Christopher, go wash up, we'll be eating shortly." Swift intake of breath. "On second thought, take a bath and do a proper wash up. I expect to hear splashing, young man."

*sigh* "Yes, mum." Christopher began walking up the stairs.

Several potentially disturbing sounds could be heard behind him.

He called back over his shoulder. "I'd like a little brother if possible!"

"Bath. NOW!" answered Harry.

*sigh*

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Omake:

He called back over his shoulder. "I'd like a little brother if possible!"

"Bath. NOW!" answered Harry.

*sigh*

Seconds ticked by.

"I don't hear walking!" yelled Harry.

"Christopher! Listen to 'The Man Who Shagged Me Rotten So You Could Be Born And With Whom I Copulate Every Single Night' and go take your bath!"


End file.
